264
PARTISAN REVIEW
will recognize to what extent the preoccupations of Elizabeth Costello
intersect with some of his own. But this is not my topic, and I shall not
pursue any further the question of whether the self-doubt of his female
novelist can be attributed to the author himself. In any case, the issue he
raises, the issue of how far an author should go in defaming the human
race, so to speak, remains totally unresolved; the narrator of the sketch
proposes no solution to her dilemma
The crucial question raised by Coetzee, however-one that has been
debated endlessly ever since Plato exiled those poets from his republic
who did not portray the gods with sufficient reverence-was taken up
somewhat later by another outstanding novelist, the Peruvian Mario
Vargas Llosa. His own works are immensely varied, but some-for
example, his most recent book,
The Feast of the Goat-portray
naked
evil in images perhaps less physically degrading than those of Coetzee's
imagined novel but equally ruthless. Vargas Llosa clearly felt provoked
by the views of his fellow novelist and responded brilliantly in his own
terms, but in fact elaborating on the argument of the questioner from
the audience who had risen to challenge Ms. Costello's talk. "Perhaps
we would be able to read what Mr. West [the author of the Stauffenberg
book] wrote," this person had said, "and learn from it, and therefore
come out stronger rather than weaker."
Vargas Llosa picks up this point by remarking that the act of reading
a book does not in itself make anyone better or worse.
The manner in which a poem, a novel, a play works on the sensi–
bility or on a character varies to infinity, and much more as a result
of the reader rather than of the work. To read Dostoevsky may, in
some cases, lead to traumatic and criminal consequences, while on
the other hand it is not impossible that the spermatic iniquities of
the Marquis de Sade have increased the percentage of virtuous
readers, vaccinating them against carnal vice.
Similarly, some readers of the novel that so appalled Ms. Costello might
have been strengthened in their hatred of sadistic cruelty.
All this being true, the question still remains of whether an author
should be relieved of
all
responsibility for the effect created by his work.
Coetzee's spokesperson perhaps goes too far by implying that certain
aspects of human evil should be off-limits for literary depiction; but Var–
gas Llosa perhaps also goes too far in freeing writers of
any
responsi–
bility for the possible consequences of their works. Might not Ms.
Costello's outcry of "obscenity" have been caused by the
manner
in
